Kate collected a police vehicle and set off for the city centre. Jo commented that the car had been freshly valeted. It was sparkling. Kate kept her face straight. That was never a good sign. She’d much rather have had one that smelled of last night’s fish and chips than one that needed decontamination for any number of gross reasons.
She didn’t share that thought.
Jo was quiet in the car.
Kate suspected that she was brooding about being left out of the loop regarding the possibility that an intruder had been in their home. Before she could raise the matter, Kate did it for her, offering a grovelling apology. ‘There was no proof,’ she said. ‘And I wasn’t prepared to worry you or anyone else over what was nothing more than a hunch at the time, however sinister it may now seem to you.’
Jo didn’t answer.
Kate looked at her. ‘Look, I was out of order, but I could do without the guilt trip.’
Jo kept her eyes front. ‘You found the time to tell Carmichael.’
‘Only this morning when, incidentally, I had another hunch that turned out to be a mile wrong.’
‘Nice to know where I stand in the pecking order.’
‘C’mon, that’s not fair. Jo, Hank doesn’t even know.’
‘That I believe . . . You know why?’ Jo turned her head slowly. ‘Because if he’d known, he’d have warned me. You don’t mind if I call James to let him know that he should exercise caution and not to open the door to strangers, do you? He’s important to me.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake. I’m a pro, you said. You can’t protect me, you said. Anything could happen when we’re on duty, you said.’
Jo had already tapped his number into her phone.
Jo’s Women’s Aid contact was waiting in reception when they arrived at the pre-determined location. The two women embraced one another. It was obvious from their conversation that they hadn’t seen each other for many years, though the first thing the aid worker said to Kate confirmed that they had kept in regular touch.
‘You must be Kate. I’m Vicky . . .’ The woman was softly spoken with vivid green eyes and red hair, tied up, wisps of which fell loose around her oval face. She stuck out a hand, a big smile for Kate, enthusiasm overflowing. ‘This feels far too formal. I’ve heard so much about you.’ She thumbed in Jo’s direction. ‘I hope you know how very happy you’ve made this one.’
The connection was instant.
As Kate followed her along a wide corridor into a small office, far away from her normal place of work, she threw Jo a supportive smile. She’d mentioned Vicky before, but only in passing. It was only last night that she’d added the context behind their relationship, how long it had lasted, how it came about. In a bad place at the time, it was a period of Jo’s past she had no intention of dwelling on. The man who’d given her grief was now dead. Still, Kate worried that meeting Vicky again might bring some of those dark emotions flooding back.
Anticipating her guests’ arrival, Vicky had arranged a pot of coffee and a plate of Viennese whirls. As she was pouring the drinks, the moderator arrived, a much younger woman with spiky pink hair and red cheeks from the freezing temperature outside. She took off her long Superdry coat, revealing skinny jeans, an oversized rainbow jumper that complimented her Acid Pink Doc Martens.
Vicky introduced her to Jo and Kate, using first names only.
The newcomer was Eden.
Kate felt a chilly vibe from her.
Jo felt it too and took charge, leaning forward, trying to get her onside. ‘Eden, I’m so sorry we’re not meeting in happier circumstances. As Vicky told you, Kate and I have reason to believe that a post written on the survivor’s forum by someone with the username 1lastrequest may be our murder victim. I’m a criminal profiler, helping Kate. She’s the Senior Investigating Officer assigned to the case.’
Without warning, Eden took a thin file from her bag, handing it over. Kate and Jo looked at one another and the room fell silent. The document inside made grim reading . . .
Hello again,
I’m not good today, a bit desperate to tell you the truth, but I want you to know that it wasn’t always this bad. HE was the one I’d dreamed of meeting, funny, attentive, older than me, in good shape, a big-shot financier like my dad – or so I was led to believe – and single.
It was lies.
We met on a yacht in Monaco on the eve of the 2008 Grand Prix. I remember the noise, the excitement, the hint of possibility. HE arrived by air taxi, totally out of the blue. It was all too much to be honest. Now I think of it, it seems like a lifetime ago. The heat was relentless that summer. We ate in the best restaurants, drank the finest wine money could buy, danced till dawn. Even now, in spite of everything, I felt safe in his arms. I still remember the buzz, a gentle hand on the nape of my neck, his lips kissing my shoulder, his urgent whisper.
‘Let’s get out of here.’
Thinking back, even then I had doubts about him and his business dealings. I didn’t want to believe them. Everyone thought he was so charming. They were also drawn to him, so convinced that he was who he was pretending to be, I started to doubt myself. Things didn’t seem right to me. Let’s just say, life had its ups and downs. As the years went on, it occurred to me that he had an ulterior motive for choosing me. Then the controlling began . . . It changed every aspect of my life: how much I spent, where I was allowed to go. Our friends were his friends. Mine were unimportant. He took over my business and my life. If it hadn’t been for my child . . . well, let’s just say, I’d have topped myself.
I came to recognise the triggers that preceded the violence. I bear unimaginable scars, mental and physical, as I know you do. I may not be able to run my finger over all of them but they exist internally. He threatened to kill Aaron if I left him. I stayed. No brainer. What was I to do? I was stuck.
No place to go.
No way out.
No hope.
Well, YOU know what it’s like, don’t you? You’ve seen all this before. You’ve tried to help others in my situation. You know you can help me as I’m trying to help you. Tell Aaron not to be angry. None of this was my doing, nor his. I couldn’t rely on others for protection. I have no regrets at the actions I took. You see that, don’t you? There was no other way.
Signing off now.
Thanks for reading.
Knowing you are there means everything to me.
1lastrequest
Kate’s heart was aching as she reread the unredacted post. She glanced up at Eden, Vicky and Jo. For a moment no one spoke. It was as if they were taking a moment to pay their respects to Hannah, a woman none of them had met in person, but who they all felt they knew intimately. Hannah was skilled at drawing people in.
Kate broke the silence. ‘This is so chilling.’
‘And also intriguing,’ Eden said, matter-of-factly.
Jo looked at her. ‘In what way?’
‘Did you notice how she began with “Hello again”?’
‘What about it?’ Kate said.
‘This is her first post.’
Eden was staring at Kate, waiting for a response. The DCI remained silent. Hannah’s first note was in her head. Momentarily, she was back in the caravan reading it, as lost for words then as she was now. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. This was one of those harrowing moments when she wished she could let go. Hannah Swift was talking to her from the grave.